Eat Your Heart Out, Faust
by M Elizabeth Penn
Summary: Instead of Hydra, what if someone else found Bucky first? When James Buchanan Barnes makes deals with the Devil, he plays to win. The bearskin cloak is just a bonus (or is it?).
1. He Was Willin' To Make a Deal

The war against Johann Schmidt and Hydra had been long and drawn out. James had nearly lost everything because of it.

After his grip failed on the bar sticking out from the hole in the train, his fall had been long and he had almost died. It would probably have been better for him if he had. As it was, he was minus a limb. As he lay there bleeding into the snow, the cold burning into what remained of his left arm and rendering it numb, he heard the crunch of steps against the snow, and he tensed. He only saw a blur of green and flesh tones, and he had to blink several times to clear his vision. There, standing above him, was a man in a green coat. James pushed himself up with his one good arm to get a better look.

The man standing in front of him was tall, almost enough to make James have to crane his neck uncomfortably. The man had sharp features: a long beak of a nose and a mouth that almost seemed too big for his face. His eyes were big and dark, and James could have sworn that he saw a glint of red in the irises. The shock of dark, almost black, hair was swept back from his forehead rather severely, making said forehead look extremely long and pale. The stranger was fiddling with something in his long, spidery fingers, and when James squinted to see better, he realised it was a gold coin. He flipped it over and under through his fingers until he saw James' stare, at which point he made it disappear suddenly with a flourish. He grinned, showing two rows of shiny teeth that were somewhat unnerving, although James couldn't put his finger on why. The stranger crouched down until his eyes were almost level with James'.

"I'm here to make a deal with you, James Barnes," the stranger finally said after a brief period of silence. His voice was smooth and almost musical, but there was an undertone not unlike skittering bugs and other unpleasant things, and it set James' teeth on edge.

"How-" he rasped. He cleared his throat and tried again. "How do you know my name?"

The stranger chuckled, the sound sending a chill down his spine. "I'm the Devil. I know everyone's name," he replied, a wry grin twisting the lips of that too-large mouth. James gave him a quick once over following that proclamation, and, to his surprise, he saw that instead of a pair of shoes standing there in the snow before him, there was a pair of hideously cloven feet. James involuntarily flinched back, sending a spasm of pain through his arm stump. His motion had set the wound to bleeding again, albeit sluggishly, drops of dark red splattering against the white snow. There was a sound of ripping cloth, and James' focus switched back to the ma- er, personage in front of him. The Devil had ripped a strip of forest green trim from the bottom hem of his coat, and he proceeded to tie it tightly around the end of the stump of James' arm, cutting off circulation so that the bleeding stopped. The tightness of the makeshift tourniquet against his ruined nerves caused a groan of pain to be ripped free all the way down in his gut, which he stifled in his throat before it could make it out of his mouth. The Devil gave him and his wound a quick assessing look before continuing. "There. Now, about the deal I'm offering you." James set his mouth in a hard line, and raised a brow at him. Deals with the Devil were tricky. He knew he'd definitely need to keep his wits about him. "I can make you rich."

James snorted. Well, that was completely unpredictable and original, then. His voice was still rough, but he spoke through it anyway. "I just fell from a train and lost an arm. Pretty sure riches are at the very bottom of my priorities list," he rasped, his words practically dripping with sarcasm.

"Then, all the better reason to have riches, Mister Barnes. For one thing, you can get yourself a new arm. With only one arm, how far could you get in this world? Not far, I can guarantee you. And with this war going on, you could use the money for lots of things that have been lacking in your life."

James' nod was almost invisible. The Devil had a point there, especially about the arm. Of course. Damned opportunist. But he was still leery, because he knew that wasn't the whole story. "What's the catch?"

The Devil affected an affronted look, putting his hand over his chest where a heart most likely _didn't_ reside. James levelled a 'don't bullshit me' glare at him, and the mock innocence morphed into something decidedly less innocent that, quite frankly, gave him the creeps, although he didn't show it outwardly. "My terms are as such," the Devil finally continued. "For the next seventy years, you must neither cut your nails or hair, and you must not bathe. You must not pray," at this the Devil gestured at the rosary tucked into James' uniform front pocket, "and you must wear the coat and cloak that I give you. You will not age, and you will always have more than enough money. If you reach the end of this time alive, then you will have all the money you could possibly ask for, and you'll be free. However, if you die any time during those seventy years, then you're **mine**." Here, the Devil's grin turned predatory.

James mulled over all of the options in his mind. He had lost everything, which wasn't much, considering. He was fairly certain that he could ensure his own survival, and therefore wind up rich. But then, seventy years was a long time. Did he want to risk it? He also knew the super soldier serum had enhanced more than just Steve's strength. They had talked about it, and Steve had been sure that he would wind up outliving Bucky, even factoring in the experimentation that Zola had done. But the terms of this deal would ensure that he wouldn't. Once he got through the seventy years, he would have the resources to find Steve again, and set up a life where they wouldn't have to be beholden to the U.S. government anymore. They could be free from the clutches of war and the sacrifices it had already claimed from them in this lifetime.

James nodded once, firmly, as he reached his decision. "Fine. You have yourself a deal."

The Devil's smile grew, and James had to suppress another shudder. He sincerely hoped he wouldn't regret this. The Devil slipped the green coat off of his shoulders and handed it to James. "This is now yours. It will provide you with all the money you will need." Then, the Devil reached over to his right and produced a big heavy bearskin cloak from somewhere. "And this will be your cloak, as well as your bed. Now, I take my leave from you. See you in seventy years. Or sooner…" he trailed off suggestively, before disappearing, leaving behind the strong smell of sulphur that nearly made James choke.

His heart pounding suddenly as the significance of the encounter sank in, James stripped off his uniform jacket, using the jack-knife from his pocket to cut the edge of the sleeve just above the makeshift tourniquet. Then he pulled on the green jacket, folding the left sleeve inside out in lieu of pinning it up. He reflexively stuck his hand in the pocket, and was surprised when his fingers touched cold metal. He brought a handful of coins out, and realised this was what the Devil had meant when he said that this would be the source of his money. He let the coins trickle back into his pocket. Then he put on the bearskin cloak. It had a strong musky scent that he could swear was almost wild and piney, as the surprisingly heavy weight settled onto his shoulders. He settled the face of the bear against the top of his head, and wrapped the rest of the body around his own as best as he could. The thick pelt held in his own body heat and kept out the freezing Alpine wind. It was definitely a blessing for the time being, although he was sure that it wouldn't be as wonderful during the summer. But that was not now, so James pushed the thought out of his mind until later. For now, he needed to get to shelter and find a way out of these accursed mountains. He stumbled to his feet, and after a careful perusal of his surroundings, he set out in what he was sure was a westerly direction, his steps slow but deliberate.

*

The first ten years were spent in pursuit of a new arm. James was able to find a way out of the mountains using both the money from his coat pockets, and his own wits and charm. Although, the latter began wearing thin sooner rather than later. He wandered far and wide throughout Europe, the devastation from the war requiring him often to sleep in bombed out houses and hidden in barn lofts. He decided that he needed to get out of Nazi controlled territory before he got himself killed and the Devil came to collect his soul. As a result, he wound up in Russia. He was able to make a deal with some Russian scientists in Moscow, who gave him a metal arm in return for a large amount of gold. Then, he was on his way again, wandering near and far, trading gold for shelter and living almost as a hermit. At this point, he was so shaggy and unkempt, that he couldn't get shelter unless he paid heavily for it.

The next twenty years were spent evading those self-same Russian scientists, who were apparently in cahoots with Hydra (of course) and wanted to recruit James once they realised what they had let slip through their fingers. As large as Russia may be, he eventually ran out of places to hide, so he headed south-east into Mongolia and then China. Upheaval in the region eventually forced him to move on, giving Vietnam a wide berth, and going even further south-east until he reached Japan. There, he stowed away on a cargo ship headed back to the Continental United States.

He spent another twenty years wandering Canada and the U.S. He resisted the temptation to return home, knowing that his family was likely long dead at this point, and even those who were still alive would not recognise him as he was. And he resisted looking for Steve, afraid of what he might find.

By now, his hair was a veritable rat's nest and practically blended in with the bearskin cloak along with the bushy beard that obscured most of his face, to the point that he looked more like animal than man. His fingernails and toenails were ragged like claws from breaking off so many times, sometimes to the quick, so that dried blood was caked around the nail beds of most of them. His voice became a growl due to disuse, since he only spoke when making deals for shelter, which was getting harder and harder as the years passed. And everywhere he went, he gave large amounts of money to the poor, each time asking them to pray for him and his safety, since, as per the terms of the deal, he could no longer do so for himself. Locals had taken to calling him Bear or Bear-skin because of the cloak. He never gave out his true name to anyone, preferring to remain anonymous.

He ended up in Alaska after a while, where he decided to stay for another ten years. Here, due to the cold and the clothing required to be able to withstand said cold, fewer questions were asked about his appearance than usual. He was even able to do some menial work, some hunting and fishing for the community's benefit. But even then, he was still considered _other_. And when he showed no signs of aging, even after ten years' time, the locals became more suspicious of him than usual and he knew his time was running out.

He spent the next five years slowly making his way to the opposite end of the continent, to finally return to the place of his birth. He was a bit apprehensive, not knowing what he would find. He had missed his best friend terribly, especially not knowing whether Steve would even be there when he returned. Any number of things could have happened during his absence. But there was nothing for it. He was reaching the end of his time as Bear-skin, and he had promised himself that he would at least try to find Steve. So he made his way to New York, although he definitely took his time and the most roundabout route possible. It was when he was halfway there that he found the people who would change his life forever.


	2. So He’s A Bit of a Fixer Upper

Darcy was bored out of her mind.

They had been driving for hours, the flat Kansas scenery seeming to creep by, even if the speed limit was much higher now that they were on the interstate. The heater in the old Pinzgauer didn't do much to combat the lingering chill, even this late into the spring, but a thick blanket wrapped around her made her at least moderately warm. That, combined with the whir of tires against the road, was starting to make her brain zone out, which made her glad she wasn't the one behind the wheel.

Erik was having his turn driving, while Darcy sat in the passenger seat with the back tilted slightly so she could relax a bit. Jane was lying on her side in the back, her knees drawn up to her chest, a ratty and faded old plaid blanket thrown over her as she tried to get a bit of rest before it was her turn to drive.

"Remind me, again, why we had to _drive_ the whole damn way?" she whined to Jane, who simply sighed, not even bothering to crack an eyelid. This was possibly the tenth time Darcy had said this. Possibly more, but the boredom tended to make everything blur together. "We could have flown into JFK or Newark and sent Erik to New Mexico to get this hunk of junk and meet us in New York. Heck, even asking Thor to pull some strings with Tony Stark and getting the thing flown there along with the rest of the equipment would have been better than driving through the Ass-End-of-Nowhere for a whole week."

Jane sighed again as she shifted to lay on her back. "We've been through this, already, Darce. Taking a reverse flight to New Mexico and then driving with our equipment the rest of the way is a lot cheaper than flying from London to New York directly and having to get all our stuff to New York besides. You know there's no way I'll trust Stark with the Pinz _**or**_ my equipment. And I'm definitely not trusting any freight service within the continental U.S. with any of this either. As for Erik, he's still in no condition to get from Puente all the way to New York by himself. You know that." Darcy darted a look over at Erik in the driver's seat and saw him giving Jane a raised eyebrow via the rearview mirror.

Darcy snorted. "Just because he forgets to wear pants half the time doesn't mean he's incapable of getting a vehicle across the country by himself." Erik made an affronted noise, and Darcy shot him an apologetic smile and shrug before continuing. "Like you can even talk, Miss Forgets-To-Eat-And-Sleep-Without-Prompting. Besides, the cost of fuelling this gas guzzler _totally_ cancels out any money we've saved by going with your plan."

Jane threw something heavy at the back of Darcy's seat, making her jump and crane her neck around to glare at her. It sounded like she'd thrown a boot, judging by the thump. "No. It doesn't cancel it out. Besides, you're the one who agreed that a road-trip would be a fun way to go get our stuff and bring it to Stark's labs."

Darcy pointed a finger at Jane, paired with an accusatory look. "That was because you said we could actually see some interesting places. All I've seen so far is desert, prairie, and more flat straight road than my sanity can handle. Not my idea of a fun road trip!"

Jane actually growled at her before throwing an arm over her eyes. "Would you cut it out? I've barely gotten any sleep because of your whining and complaining."

Darcy harrumphed as she turned back around, petulantly crossed her arms, and slouched down a bit, but didn't say any more. A sleep-deprived and crabby Jane was not to be crossed, even in the face of mind-numbing boredom. She could see Erik trying not to grin with amusement out of the corner of her eye, and she steadfastly ignored him.

They were on this epic road trip of doom because freaking S.H.I.E.L.D. had ditched them. Okay, that wasn't entirely fair. Apparently, pretty shortly after the Battle of Greenwich, HYDRA had made a reappearance. Judging from the information she was able to glean from the internet after the fact, S.H.I.E.L.D. had become firmly integrated with the old Nazi organisation because of all the double-agents HYDRA had secretly placed within their ranks. Somehow, Captain America wound up involved, and S.H.I.E.L.D. was destroyed in the resulting battle at the Triskelion. Even in London, a lot of the situation had wound up in the news, and that was when Jane and Darcy realised that they were stranded.

Getting back to the States with the equipment they'd acquired in London and trying to get to New York had taken all of their resources, and due to the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. they weren't 100% sure if they could truly trust anyone affiliated with the disgraced organization (even Stark, really) so Jane was actually right, even if Darcy didn't want to admit it. They had all agreed to road-trip it to New York to meet up with Thor and his buddies and hope that their money didn't run out along the way. Darcy was definitely regretting that one, for obvious reasons.

Darcy settled back and, reaching down into her purse, pulled out her iPod and scrolled through the playlists to find something that either would relieve her boredom or let her fall asleep to escape the monotony. She stuck in the earbuds and let her head thunk back against the headrest as she closed her eyes against the outside world for a while.

*

They were almost to the Missouri state line when they pulled into a filling station parking lot and switched drivers, after stretching their legs and getting some food. Darcy got behind the wheel, Jane and Erik switched places, and they were soon on their way again. Darcy decided to avoid big city traffic and took a southerly route around Kansas City instead of through it.

They were only half an hour outside of St. Louis when she saw the hitchhiker by the side of the road, off in the distance. At first she thought it was a bear, but as they got a bit closer, she realised it was a man, his arm out and thumb extended. She slowed down a bit and Jane stirred, woken by the inertia from their change in speed.

"Huuuuhh? Wadissit?" Jane mumbled, groggily. Darcy didn't answer, focussed on pulling over to the side of the road. Her common sense was telling her that this was a bad idea, but then her soft-heartedness for people down on their luck was currently trying to shout down that part of her brain.

As they came to a stop behind the man, Darcy saw that he was absolutely filthy and hairy. In fact, his own hair was nearly indistinguishable from a large bearskin wrapped around him. Well, that explained almost mistaking him for a bear. His face was brown with dirt and his beard was matted, his fingernails were ragged and slightly on the long side. She thought that she could see a green tint to the sleeve of the arm that he had stuck out to hitch a ride, but it was mostly brown. She wasn't sure if it was from dirt or if it was the actual colour, but his appearance was nearly enough for her common sense to win her over again. She steeled herself against it and rolled down the window as the man slowly made his way over.

"What are you doing?" Erik was awake too, by this point, having moved to the jump seat directly behind her, and Darcy could see his hand grabbing the back of Jane's seat in a white-knuckled grip out of her periphery. Jane was also clutching her forearm hard, and Darcy pried her fingers off before shooting her a glare.

"He obviously needs our help. Just chill, would you?" Jane looked livid and opened her mouth, apparently about to give Darcy a piece of her mind, but she was interrupted by the man appearing in the window next to her.

"Hello, there. Sorry, I was wondering if I could trouble you for a ride?" The stranger's voice was gravelly as if he had a mild case of laryngitis, making it sound almost like a bear had just up and decided to try and pass itself off as human. Then the smell hit them, almost comically delayed. Jane choked and nearly went into a coughing fit. Darcy could hear Erik snort and wheeze a bit as he tried to stifle his reaction and be somewhat more discreet than Jane. Darcy's lips thinned into a line as she put them in between her teeth to keep her expression relatively neutral. She quickly abandoned that plan, as doing so forced her to breathe exclusively through her nose. She looked the stranger in the eye and dredged up a sunny smile that was somewhat forced, but nobody would be able to blame her, really, given the situation.

"Where you headed, stranger?" she asked, proud that her voice was strong and even, despite the eye-watering stench.

"I'm on my way to New York City. But, wherever you can take me would be fine."

Darcy focussed on his eyes, trying to avoid grimacing from the smell or gawking at his appearance, sure that he had enough of that already. His eyes were actually pretty nice, especially when contrasted with the rest of him, the steel blue counter-intuitively warm and inviting, with small smile lines gathered at the outer corners. She supposed someone with eyes like that couldn't be that bad. And he probably couldn't help the rest, being homeless. She could see some sadness there, too, and loneliness, which made her heart ache. At this point she decided she was going to help him, no matter what.

Jane suddenly pinched her, causing her to jump and yell, "Ow!" shooting an outraged glare at her passenger. Jane was giving her a panicky look, not so subtly mouthing, "NO. DON'T DO IT." The stranger seemed to find this whole exchange amusing, the smile lines around his eyes deepening as his lips tipped up in a lopsided grin.

"If it helps, I can pay you," he said, and Darcy saw him reach a hand into the pocket of his coat of indeterminate colour.

"What? No! That's not necessary!" Darcy shot Jane a judgmental look that had the other woman looking somewhat chastened, but still mutinous. "Hop in!" Darcy gestured to the back where the bench seats were. She saw Erik give her a dark glare, but she just gave him a bright smile, and the glare softened to simply grumpy. As the man opened the hatch in the back, Erik slid over to give him plenty of room. Darcy noted that the hitchhiker didn't slide into the seat next to or even across from Erik, but hunched over and stayed in the very back, sitting on the floor in the corner and resting his back against the bench seat that stretched along the side opposite Erik. Darcy gave him one more glance in the rear-view mirror before starting up the engine again and pulling back onto the road. Jane kept the window rolled down, and that, along with the window cracked in the back, created a draft that made the smell from the hitchhiker more bearable. They drove in silence for a while before Darcy decided the silence was beginning to be too much. She cleared her throat a little, which caused Jane to jump visibly. Darcy ignored it and turned her attention to the hulking, hairy man in the back.

"What's your name, stranger?" Through the rear-view mirror, she saw him looking at her warily, which she supposed was understandable, given the situation. "We're going to be travelling together, might as well have something to call you, besides Mr. Bear." She caught his eye, and winked, barely registering Jane gaping at her, and Erik making more choked sounds in the back. She saw rather than heard his laughter, as his shoulders bounced up and down several times.

She definitely heard the smile in his voice when he replied, "James. My name is James."

*

James wound up staying with them through the rest of Missouri, as well as Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, and into Pennsylvania. He turned out to be a pretty good conversationalist once he got over his initial reticence, keeping up with Darcy's idle chatter quite easily. He even surprised them by being fluent in Swedish, which delighted Erik to no end. It made Darcy smile to see the two chattering back and forth, though about what she couldn't tell you. And James insisted on paying for fuel and lodging, which eased the financial strain, appeasing Jane somewhat. She still didn't enjoy the smell and sight of him, but she did her best to stay polite, for Darcy and Eric's sake.

They were about halfway through Buchanan National Forest when the Pinzgauer started making ominous, rattling noises as they went up one of the smaller mountains in this northern part of the Appalachians. Erik was driving, and he let up off the gas as ominous dark grey smoke began to roil out from beneath the hood. He let it coast to a stop at the side of the road, throwing on the hazard lights and getting out to check the engine. He coughed and waved away the smoke with his hand as he looked under the hood. He examined the engine for a while, and when he returned to the driver's seat, his expression was grim. He pulled out his phone, calling roadside assistance and arranging a pick-up with one of the local towing companies, to get the Pinz to a mechanic's shop in nearby Crystal Spring, Pennsylvania.

The mechanic's shop they ended up at gave Darcy the creeps. It was pretty run down, with grimy windows, the floor oily and strewn with random nuts and bolts, rusty gas and oil cans, teetering stacks of tires, and assorted bits of metal. The scent of gasoline and diesel permeated the enclosed space, and made Darcy nearly sneeze. Through one of the semi-obscured windows, she could see that backyard had several skeletons of older car models littering the sparse brown grass, and the trees looked like they'd seen better days. But the towing guy had suggested this place because of the man's expertise with obscure and foreign models, being the only one for miles around. Darcy, Jane, and James stood several feet away as Erik talked in heated tones with the mechanic.

Honestly, the mechanic was pretty much as oily looking as the rest of his shop, and Darcy trusted him about as far as she could throw him (which, given his size, was not so far). He was fairly young, with a square jaw and tousled dark hair. He had several days' growth of a beard across his chin and jaw, the moustache slightly darker than the rest. It wasn't that he wasn't ruggedly handsome, despite some truly wicked-looking scars around his eyes and trailing across his left temple. But there was something dark and dangerous in his hazel eyes as he kept giving her assessing glances, staring at her breasts for far longer than necessary. It made creepy-crawly shivers erupt across her skin wherever his eyes travelled.

She inched closer to James, and she could tell that he'd noticed the mechanic's unwanted attention, the way he angled his body to shield hers a little better. Jane was shooting him glares and kept glancing at Erik to try and silently plead for him to finish up their business here. Darcy could see Erik's jaw clenching and unclenching, which meant he really didn't like what he was hearing. The mechanic said something, gesturing at her with his chin, throwing a leering grin her way, which made her shrink back at the predatory look. Erik's hand closed into a fist, but he held himself in check and instead came back over to the group. His voice was low as he updated them on the situation.

"He says that he can get the part we need, but it's going to cost a _lot_ of money," Erik said grimly. "He offered to give us a… discount, but I refused." He cast a dark look back to where the mechanic was still waiting. Jane opened her mouth to argue, but when she saw the hungry way the mechanic was staring at Darcy, her mouth snapped shut again with an audible click of her teeth, as she realised exactly what that 'discount' entailed.

James cottoned on to what the mechanic was getting at around the same time Jane did, and a rumbling bear-like growl echoed from deep in his throat, as he stepped completely in front of Darcy to hide her from view. "I'll rip him limb from limb…" he muttered, making no attempt to keep his voice down. Darcy peeked around James, and saw with a great amount of satisfaction that the mechanic's face was now white as a sheet as he warily eyed the now livid man in front of her.

Erik gestured for James to back down as he continued, "The point is, we can't even begin to afford to fix this problem, and we're basically at this man's mercy. I won't let him anywhere near Darcy, and I know you won't either. But we're really stuck between a rock and a hard place here."

A chuckle erupted from James, and everyone's heads whipped towards him in surprise. "Oh, that's the problem? Money? Well, why didn't you say so to begin with?" He reached into the pocket of the coat of indeterminate greenish colour, and pulled out what looked like a handful of hundred dollar bills. Darcy was pretty sure she gasped audibly, and Erik and Jane looked equally dumbstruck. Erik snapped out of it first, and began shaking his head vehemently. "Absolutely not! We could not even begin to repay you, and this is too much money to be messing around with."

James clapped a hand on Erik's shoulder and grinned at him. "Don't even give it a worry, my friend. I have more than enough money to deal with this little problem." Erik tried to protest again, but James cut him off. "Do you trust me?" Erik stared at him with intense scrutiny for several moments before nodding tersely. James let go of his shoulder, and took his handful of money over to the mechanic where he proceeded to negotiate for their needed car part.

*

They stayed at a small, out-of-the-way hotel for a few days while they waited for the mechanic to get the part he needed to fix the Pinzgauer. The moment it was fixed, they left Crystal Spring and headed into New Jersey, only stopping when they got to the outskirts of Newark. They stayed there for a couple days, not quite willing to hasten the approach to their destination because of the goodbyes it would necessitate. Finally they knew that they could no longer dawdle, and it was time to finally head into New York City. With this came the unspoken understanding that it also meant it was time for James to part ways with Darcy and Company.

The night before they headed into the city, Darcy couldn't sleep, so she decided to sit out by the outdoor swimming pool. She was deep in thought when James came and sat next to her. After a month, everyone had pretty much habituated to the smell; otherwise, Darcy probably would have smelled him coming, even if she didn't hear him. The man could be completely silent if he chose. As it was, she jumped about a foot when his weight plopped down to the left of her, the creak and the movement of the cheap plastic lounge chair startling her out of her reverie. She clapped a hand over her heart and looked at him in mock outrage that was half real. "Jeez, warn a girl, would ya?!?"

"Sorry, doll," he growled quietly, looking not at all repentant. She gave him a mock stern glare; he simply grinned at her. She rolled her eyes before looking back out at the rippling surface of the pool. They sat like that in comfortable, quiet companionship for a while before James broke the silence. "Penny for your thoughts."

"Just thinking about what happens when we get to New York." Darcy shrugged. "It'll be interesting having a real job, for once, rather than just being a poor, broke, and useless intern." Darcy had gotten used to reading his myriad of expressions from his eyes alone, and his confusion was clear as day. "Jane has been applying to some places in the city besides Stark Industries, and she has interviews with a couple of them later this week," she explained. "Now that she's been proved right, more people are willing to hire her. And if somebody does decide to hire her, she might even be able to afford making her intern a paid one." Darcy affected a 'ta-da' pose at this, and put on a big sunny grin that would have put Vanna White to shame. But then her smile dropped along with her hands, and her heart lodged somewhere in her throat. She hated the way the lump it made caused her voice to crack slightly as she asked, "What about you?"

"Not sure," James shrugged. "Probably wander around for a few years until it's time for-" and then he cut himself off abruptly. Darcy looked at him questioningly, and she saw trepidation skitter across his face. She tried her best to appear non-threatening as his eyes flickered across her face, and she leaned close to briefly bump a shoulder against his. She saw him sit a little straighter and his shoulders came back a bit as he shook his head minutely, coming to some sort of decision in his mind. "Until it's time for my trial to be finished," he completed his sentence. Darcy raised an eyebrow at him questioningly. He took a deep breath, and then proceeded to tell her everything, starting with a cold morning sixty-some-odd years ago, after a long fall from a train.

*

To her credit, Darcy listened intently to his entire story. James wasn't entirely sure what made him decide to tell her. It wasn't like the Devil had told him not to tell anyone, but he had kept the story to himself all these years, just the same. But something about Darcy, the way she wormed her way into his trust, and accepted him as he was without judgment, made him want to tell her the story from start to finish. And he catalogued every single one her reactions, the trepidation as he told of the deal with the Devil, the sympathy as he told of his struggles as he travelled the world, tears glistening in her eyes as he told her about his family, and Steve. And when he finished, ending with their meeting on a remote country road in the midst of prairie-land, she heaved a gusty sigh, her cheeks puffing out almost comically for a brief moment. He could see the wheels turning in her head as she considered everything he had told her.

"Wow. That's… quite the story," she said, quietly, after a long, drawn-out pause, shaking her head almost in disbelief.

"I'm telling the truth," he said, a defensive tone creeping into his voice, unbidden. Her head snapped to the side as she looked at him, surprise and a small bit of what looked like hurt in her eyes.

"Of course! I believe you. It's just a lot to take in at the moment." He saw sincerity in her gaze as she looked him over from head to toe. He resisted the urge to duck his head under her scrutiny. She gave him a small, almost timid smile, and he couldn't resist smiling back. He was filled with a rush of gratitude for this amazing woman, who had ignored his appearance and accepted him with respect and not a hint of disdain, and now received his story without question, as well. He opened his mouth to tell her how much he appreciated her, and to thank her for everything.

"Marry me," he blurted. He froze, the words not at all what he had intended to say. He couldn't retract them, shock having paralysed him. His heart was pounding as he awaited her reaction. She smiled at him, reassuring him. Then she paused, pensively, before chuckling to herself a bit.

"If I agree to marry you, will you turn into a handsome prince?" she asked teasingly, one side of her mouth ticking up in a wry grin and her eyes twinkling in gentle amusement.

His answering laughter was rusty from disuse. "I haven't been a handsome prince for decades, doll." Darcy snorted at that. She laid a hand against his cheek, and he was so unprepared for the contact that he visibly flinched. The smile was wiped from her face and she snatched her hand away quickly.

"Sorry! Oh, god, I shouldn't have done that. My personal boundaries really need work."

She continued apologising profusely, until James held up a hand to silence her. Gingerly, so his ragged fingernails wouldn't hurt her, he took her hand in his and set her palm against his cheek once again. He looked at her for just a moment, but it was enough, because she seemed to understand what his eyes were trying to say. Hers softened, and her fingers flexed minutely against his cheek, as she swiped a thumb back and forth against his skin, heedless of the dirt caked there. His eyes fluttered shut, and his heart stuttered against his ribcage as he gave a quiet little sigh through his nose. He leaned into her hand a bit, the bliss of real human contact slightly overwhelming after all these years.

"Yes."

James eyes blinked open as his brain struggled to tune out the sensory information and make sense of the single word she'd uttered. "What?" he asked, feeling a bit stupid as his brows drew together and his eyes narrowed in confusion.

"My answer. It's yes." Shocked, James' eyes widened as he searched her eyes for any indication that this was a joke, or some sort of mistake. She _couldn't_ be saying what he thought she was saying. It simply wasn't possible. But all he saw in her eyes was kindness and something warm that made his heart skip a beat. He was afraid to put a name to it, on the off chance that he was wrong. A lump had developed in his throat, and his eyes were a bit misty as he turned his head to place a kiss into her palm.

"I can't go to New York with you," he finally said, regret colouring his words and his voice cracking embarrassingly. Darcy looked about as thrilled as he felt, but it was little comfort against the way his eyes burned and his throat ached from the lump lodged there. "I have three more years left, before my trial is up. I must complete that, and then I will be able to come back to you. I promise, I will come back to you." He said the last fervently, as he put the palm of his hand beneath her chin to tip her face up to look at him. The tears swimming in her eyes made something in his heart crack even further. On impulse, he reached into his pocket, and was mildly surprised to feel a cool band of metal against his fingers.

He brought it out, and found that he grasped a thin golden ring in his hand. Darcy's eyes flickered down to his upturned palm in curiosity before looking back up into his face. James focussed on the ring, grasping it on both sides with both sets of fingers, metal and flesh. He put pressure on one side, bending it back and forth several times until it suddenly snapped. He repeated it on the other side, until there were two halves sitting in his palm.

Once again, he gingerly took Darcy's hand in his, turning it so that it was palm up. Then he placed a ring half in her hand, gently closing her fingers around it. "Keep this to remember me by. And in three years, I will return to marry you," he murmured to her. Darcy nodded silently, and slipped the ring piece into her pocket, as she took both his hands into hers. They sat like that for what felt like an age and no time at all, until Darcy began to sway under the influence of sleep finally coming to claim her. James walked with her as she carefully made her way back to her room, and he returned to his own shortly after.

In the morning, they said nothing of what had passed between them the night before. As they stood in the parking lot to say farewell, there were tears and hugs all around. The sky was dreary and grey, threatening a healthy dose of cold rain, and the wind bit into them despite their abundance of layers. James gave a small, hidden kiss to the corner of Darcy's jaw, near her ear when she wrapped her arms around him. "Pray for me," he whispered to her quietly. "This was my mother's," he said as he surreptitiously slipped the long-unused rosary into her hand.

Then, with a nod at Erik and Jane and a longing smile at Darcy that made her heart ache, he turned and went on his way, the bearskin cloak wrapped firmly around him as always, not looking back even once. The others turned away after a short while, going back into the hotel room to prepare for the drive into the city. But Darcy stayed out in the parking lot until he had finally disappeared from sight. Then she went back to the hotel room to help the others prepare, her face streaked with tears.


	3. Gonna Wash That Ma- Devil Right Outt

Author's Note

: _If anyone's pissy about Darcy just giving up a la Bella Swan, take it up with the original fairy tale author. This is literally the same scenario the Brothers Grimm wrote, just updated for modern day and Avengers. I promise, Darcy will get her mojo back, she's just in a bit of a dark spot at the moment._

The three years after James' departure were heart-wrenching. Darcy felt a sort of irony, that her and Jane's roles had been reversed. Not long after their arrival in New York City, Jane interviewed at Stark Industries and was hired immediately. Well, interviewed was a relative term. She walked into Pepper's office where Tony and Pepper both were waiting for her, Tony simply looked at her and said, "You're hired," Pepper nodded, and that was that. Darcy and Erik were hired alongside Jane, and all three moved into their own rooms in the Tower.

Darcy sort of kept to herself for the most part, staying in her rooms and the labs, not really interacting with any of the Avengers aside from Bruce Banner, who shared the labs with them. She had brief introductions to the other members of the team, but she didn't spend a lot of time with them aside from random interactions and the occasional team-building exercise that somehow wound up with the science team lumped in with everyone else.

By the time year three rolled around, Darcy stopped leaving the tower, and had started wearing dark clothing, even in the midst of summer. A part of her knew she was being more than a bit pathetic (a certain teen pining after her vampire ex-boyfriend came to mind, and the snarky part of her brain scoffed at her current self), but for all she knew, her dear sweet James could be dead, his soul harvested by the Devil. Honestly it felt like she was in mourning, a widow perpetually grieving the loss of her husband. But they weren't married. It was a strange half-life that she lived during that third year. The endless support of Jane, Erik, and Thor was the only thing that kept her relatively sane, the other Avengers looking on in concern at the edges of her awareness.

In a rare moment of sentimentality and thoughtfulness, Jane found a small glass bottle with a cork goodness knows where, and tied a deep crimson cord around the neck. She gave it to Darcy to put the dainty half ring piece in, so that she could wear it next to her heart. And James' mother's rosary always stayed wrapped around her wrist like a bracelet.

She really wasn't a religious person, but she prayed, anyway, to a God she wasn't sure was listening. She prayed for James and smoothed shaking fingers across the lines of cool red lacquer beads and the smooth wooden cross. She would lie awake at night, clutching the rosary and begging whoever was listening to bring her James back to her, safe and sound.

*

After parting ways with his companions outside New York City, James set to wandering again. The landscape had changed drastically since he had left during the War, and much of his time was spent re-learning it. He found that due to his appearance, people were still afraid of him, so he did his best to stay away from the more heavily populated areas. After a couple months of this, he decided to head further upstate.

Near the middle of the second year of wandering, he started gravitating most to a more remote area of the Adirondacks, in the High Peaks wilderness. He found that here, time had done its work far more slowly than in his own home city. The landscape in this area was largely unchanged and untouched by the spreading arms of industry and progress, the wilderness only broken here and there by the roads that laced throughout the region. The only people who really spent time out here were hikers and the occasional homeless pan-handler, but neither had a tendency to to linger for long. He decided that if there was anywhere to weather the rest of his trial, it would be here, where he could keep his interactions with people limited.

He made sure he never stayed in one area of the forest for more than a week, and the people who did catch sight of him usually didn't bother him, probably mistaking him for a bear or some other large animal. He only went into the slightly more populated areas to procure supplies from the locals, people who tended to keep to themselves and didn't ask too many questions.

He knew that if he developed any large caches that park authorities would start asking questions, and his sanctuary would no longer be that, so he tried not to keep too much in one place, and to not create any permanent shelters. In the wintertime, he made sure to keep to the smaller caves in the region, and wrapped in his bearskin, he managed not to freeze to death in the bitter cold.

At the end of his third year, the Devil finally found James, on one of the first truly sunny days at the conclusion of winter. He was sitting along the riverbank, watching the water rush among the rocks and boulders, and listening to the ecstatic song of the returning birds. The only thing that heralded the new arrival was a whiff of sulphur that James caught on the wind, but he willed himself not to react, giving only the slightest wrinkle of his nose and a disgusted sniff and instead focussed his gaze on the whirls and eddies of the river.

He let the moment stretch for several drawn out breaths before he turned to the personage standing to the left of him. He said nothing, just quirked a brow at the clearly seething Devil. If he had been a lesser man, he may have quailed at the sight of the barely checked rage simmering in those dark red eyes. But the past seventy years had given him a thick skin, and he certainly wouldn't have gotten this far if he didn't own a brass pair. So he held his peace and waited for the Devil to acknowledge the truth they both clearly knew.

"The deal is complete. You're free," the Devil muttered grudgingly, an undercurrent of howls and screeching in his voice just barely audible to James' enhanced ears. He would have given a sigh of relief at the words, if he wasn't so on edge still. As it was, his eyes sank closed. "The coat is yours, as are the riches promised."

At the clop of cloven feet against the rocks, James' metal hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of cloth to hold the Devil in place, as his eyes shot open. "Not so fast." The Devil's eyes widened minutely, before narrowing at him. He injected steel into his voice in defence. "First you need to clean me up."

*

James had to say, the sight of the Devil standing waist high in the river looking like a cat getting a bath was the sight of the century. He wasn't sure where the Devil got the scissors or the soap from, but he wasn't going to ask. James had stripped off the bearskin and the green coat and left them on the bank of the river, and he had carefully wrapped the chain holding his dog tags around his wrist, but his shirt and trousers wouldn't budge, so he left them on as he waded into the river.

He took his time, lowering himself until he was crouching in the river so that the water was up past his shoulders and he stayed there soaking in the cool water. After seventy years of squalor, the water felt like heaven. He dipped his head back to wet his hair, and had a fleeting thought that the Devil might just grab him by the filthy mats and hold him under, but he couldn't find it within himself to care.

After a while spent soaking, the Devil began the arduous task of washing him and ridding him of the overgrown hair and beard. The lengthy soak loosened the clothing from his back so that he was able to finally remove his shirt, trousers, and underclothes. He tossed them aside, and they hit the rocks with a sodden slap.

The Devil took a handful of his hair, and he tensed, but the snip of shears commenced not long thereafter, and he allowed himself to relax just a smidge. His head grew lighter and lighter as more and more hunks of hair fell into the river to be swept away by the currents. After the hair from his head, the voluminous beard followed, then his fingernails and toenails.

Once the grooming session was finished, James silently took the soap and began scrubbing himself. It took at least seven scrubs and dunks under the surface for the suds to stop being a sickening greyish brown. It felt a bit like a baptism, every time he came back up out of the water, blowing hard to clear his nose and wiping the streaming water from his eyes. He knew that his transformation was complete when the Devil began to edge away towards the bank.

James stood up and watched, his gaze hard, making sure that no subterfuge was planned. When he realised that he wasn't being followed, the Devil made a quick escape, glancing back every so often as he went, until he was out of sight. James breathed a small internal sigh of relief, and something inside his chest uncoiled and released, although he still didn't let his guard down completely. He used what remained of the soap to scrub out his clothes as best as he could, and set them out on the sunny rocks to dry.

Later, when the clothes were dry, and his fingers and toes were far beyond pruney, James got dressed and slowly made the long trek to town. If he was going to look for Steve and re-unite with Darcy, he was going to need some new clothes first.


	4. Mawage Mawage is Wot Bwings Us Togeder

All things considered, finding Steve was quite possibly the easiest part of this whole ordeal. All it took was one Google search on one of the computers in a small-town library, and James knew pretty much everything that Steve had been up to in the past several decades, from his own fall from the train onwards.

He was more than a little peeved when he read about the part where Steve put down a plane in the Arctic, but he'd survived, so he guessed that was water under the bridge. He did plan on giving Steve a hard time about it initially, though. He saw that after getting thawed out, Steve had continued the work he started during the war, working with the Avengers to defend the world against bullies one threat at a time.

It took a bit more digging, and a few phone calls made from the library pay phone before James was able to figure out a way to actually call Steve and let him know he was alive. He settled on getting a hold of one Virginia "Pepper" Potts, who looked to be the go-to person when it came to Stark Industries and the Avengers.

He spoke with a secretary, who asked him to hold for several moments before the banal orchestral music was cut off with a click, and a prim voice said, "Hello, this is Virginia Potts speaking. Who, might I ask, is calling?"

He took a deep breath. "Hello, this is James Barnes. I was calling about information on getting in contact with Steve Rogers. I know this might sound a bit crazy, but we grew up together. We were separated near the end of the war, and I've been wandering from place to place ever since. I just recently got back to New York and looked him up, saw that he was still around despite his best attempts. I was wondering if you could help me get in contact with him?" There was a pregnant pause, and James found himself holding his breath waiting. When the person on the other end of the line spoke again, her voice sounded just the slightest bit strained.

"One moment please, Mister Barnes," she said. James waited, and his enhanced ears could hear her hand cover the phone, and her muffled voice saying, "Jarvis, please run voice recognition on the current call," and a male voice in a clipped British accent reply, "Certainly, Miss Potts." There was some noise against the receiver and she was back. "Mr. Barnes, how long have you been in New York? And, if you don't mind my asking, whereabouts are you staying?"

"I don't mind at all, Miss Potts," James replied affably. "I've been in-state for the past three years, but I had prior obligations until recently. I'm currently still quite a ways upstate, staying at a small inn in Chestertown. I was hoping to come down to the big city soon once I got a hold of Steve so we could meet and catch up."

"Ah yes, you must be up near the Adirondacks. Stark Industries has some warehouses a ways south of there. It's a lovely area. I trust that your accommodations are to your liking?" James could hear a slight thawing of her tone as she continued talking with him.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied. "The room's got a great view of the mountains. I think I can even see some of the leaves starting to come in on the trees. It should be spring soon, if this warm streak we've been having keeps on."

At that moment he heard the same voice from before faintly, as he broke in with an apologetic tone, "So sorry to interrupt, Miss Potts. The voice recognition scan has been completed. A moment, please?"

"Certainly, Jarvis," her voice was a bit distant, as she presumably turned from the phone receiver, towards the one speaking. Her voice regained its volume again as she said, "So sorry, Mr. Barnes, but if I could put you on hold once more?"

"Of course," he replied, before there was a click, and he was listening to the nondescript orchestral music from before. He plied the pay-phone with more quarters to ensure the call wouldn't be cut off any time soon, and he shifted his stance so that he was leaning against the wall with one ankle tucked across the other and the receiver wedged between his ear and shoulder. After several minutes, there was a click and an end to the music, and tears sprung to his eyes at the voice on the other end.

"What is this, some kind of joke?" a familiar tenor demanded tersely. Steve. Miss Potts must have either gotten him up there in her office, or had somehow transferred him to Steve personally. He'd have to remember to get her a little something in thanks.

There were a few moments of pause as he tried to push past the lump in his throat to reply. If his voice still sounded a bit choked up, well there's nobody who'd be able to blame him. 70 years, and nothing about Steve seemed to have changed a bit.

"Hiya, Stevie." He heard the sharp intake of breath on the other end and gave a slightly wet chuckle.

"How do I know you're really him?" Steve demanded, although he sounded a lot less abrupt than initially.

"Your mom's name was Sarah." He huffed out a ghost of a laugh, "'N you used to wear newspapers in your shoes…" He could hear Steve gulp back a sob, and his eyes pricked in response.

"Buck… how…" there was a pause as Steve sniffed and heaved a sigh before continuing," You fell." His voice cracked on the last word. "I saw you go. It haunted my dreams for years afterwards, even in the ice."

"Yeah, about that. I'm gone for two months, and all of a sudden you go all suicidal on everybody? What the hell, punk?!"

"It was the only way," Steve defended weakly. "Schmidt's plane was speeding towards the East Coast with a whole load of bombs set to go off. The only way to stop it was to put the plane down."

"Uh huh. Sure, Mr. Man With a Plan," James replied sceptically, rolling his eyes, even as he grinned at the familiarity of messing with his best friend. He'd missed this while he was wandering the world as Bearskin.

"Aw, shove it, ya jerk," Steve replied, the grin apparent in his voice as well.

"But yeah," James continued after a pause. "All that experimenting Zola got around to after Azzano. It changed me, Stevie. Made me kind of like you. Not quite. They hadn't figured out the whole process of how they made you big. But they managed to do something, 'cause the fall didn't kill me. Took off my arm, though." He paused, remembering what had happened next, and all that followed.

"Buck… I'm sorry," Steve sounded close to tears again.

"What the hell for, punk?"

"That I couldn't catch you. That I didn't jump after you. That I couldn't save you."

James scoffed, "Wasn't your fault, and what would you have solved by jumpin' after me? Nothin', that's what. Now, enough talkin' about this. What's done is done, and all in the past. But as for the present, I wanted to come down to meet ya, see how you're doing for yourself now that you're a honest to god superhero. Think you have time to pencil me in to that busy schedule of yours?"

"Of course, Buck. I've always got time for you. You got someplace to stay? If you want, you could come stay at the Tower with me. I'm sure Stark wouldn't mind one more person up here. I could probably talk him into getting you an apartment set up on one of the Avengers levels."

"If it's not too much trouble, I might take you up on that. I have some stuff I need to do here upstate, but I could probably be down there before the end of the week."

Steve gave him directions to Avengers Tower and his cell phone number in case he needed further directing, and James gave him the phone number for the inn along with his room number in case of emergency, and they ended the call with Steve extracting a promise that he'd be there sooner rather than later.

And so it was, on a sunny and increasingly warm spring morning midway through the week, Bucky found himself hopping astride a motorcycle he'd bought off of one of the locals and speeding off, leaving upstate New York nothing more than a reflection in his side mirrors.

*

Steve greeted him in the lobby of Avengers Tower with suspiciously wet eyes, a slightly wavering smile, and a bear hug that seemed to go on forever. James wrapped his arms around Steve in return, his eyes getting a bit misty as well in the process. Steve finally ended the hug and drew away, placing his hands on James' shoulders and holding him at arm's length, drinking in the sight of him.

After a while, to cut the emotions that were threatening to overwhelm him, James smirked before quipping, "Alright punk, as fun as it is staring into each other's eyes lovingly, don't you have some things to show me before I settle in?"

Steve snorted in amusement, shaking his head and muttering, "Jerk," whilst surreptitiously wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. James pretended not to notice, and instead bent to pick up the duffel bag containing his few belongings, including the now dry-cleaned but still ratty green coat. Steve turned and headed for a bank of elevators further into the lobby, and James followed. The doors to an elevator on the far right slid open upon their approach almost soundlessly, and Steve entered and leaned against one wall.

"JARVIS, Avengers Residential levels please," Steve said with a small glance upwards.

"Certainly, Commander Rogers," replied a crisp and vaguely familiar British voice, coming from somewhere near the ceiling. James jumped visibly. "Apologies, Sergeant Barnes, I did not mean to startle you. My name is JARVIS, and I am the Artificial Intelligence currently in charge of the functions and security in Avengers Tower. If at any time you find yourself in need of anything, please let me know and I will do my best to serve you."

James placed a hand on his chest, willing his heartbeat to slow. He saw Steve looking at him with a mixture of concern and amusement. "Er, thanks JARVIS. Pleased to meet you."

"And I you," replied the voice as the elevator began to move, slowly at first but picking up speed. James lent half an ear as Steve chattered on about the tower and its occupants. When the elevator finally slowed and gently bumped to a stop, the AI once again spoke. "Residential Levels, Commander Rogers. Enjoy your stay, Sergeant Barnes."

"Thanks, JARVIS," replied Steve, and James echoed his reply with a soft voice.

The doors to the elevator opened as silently as when they had entered, and a wide sunny room was revealed. There was a large kitchen area, a countertop island, a dining table and chairs, and a comfortable looking sitting area to the left with big plush couches facing the windows that took up the entire wall offering up a breath-taking view of the New York skyline. "This is the common area. Often the members of the team come here in between missions to relax and spend their down time not cooped up in their individual apartments." Steve gestured to the whole of the room in one big sweeping gesture, and James followed the trajectory with his eyes.

It was then that James caught sight of _her_ , and his heart skipped a beat. Darcy was sitting by herself on one of the couches, looking out the window whilst absently toying with something in her lap. From where he stood, he could see that she was dressed all in black clothing, and her look was decidedly blank. He'd seen that look on lots of soldiers in the war. The 'Thousand Yard Stare', they'd called it. It made something in his chest hurt something fierce to see it on her, especially paired with the dark circles under her eyes, and the defeated slant to her shoulders.

She brought the hand that had been fiddling in her lap up to her face, pressing it against her mouth. He caught a glimpse of familiar red beads and a wooden cross, and any remaining doubts that she may have forgotten him, or written him off were swept away.

Steve followed his gaze, and gave a low hum and a shake of his head that had something of pity in it. "That's Darcy Lewis," he said lowly. "She works with a scientist in the RD department, one Doctor Jane Foster and her mentor Erik Selvig. They got here about three years ago, but she's been like this for the past year. Not sure what happened, and none of them will talk about it. She just wanders around like a ghost between taking care of Doctor Foster, Selvig, and Doctor Banner." James just nodded, brow furrowed, not letting on that he already knew the three scientists. He saw Darcy glance over briefly at their hushed conversation, but her gaze didn't linger and she went back to staring out listlessly over the buildings outside.

Suddenly, a series of loud pings broke the silence, and Steve's attention was jerked to the pocket of his khakis. He fumbled in his pocket a bit before pulling out his phone. After a few moments of scrolling, Steve glanced back up at James. "Sorry, Buck. I've got a couple calls to make. Do you mind waiting in here until I can show you the rest of the floor and where you'll be staying?" He grinned apologetically, and James found himself grinning back easily, their old camaraderie returning after years of disuse as if it had never left.

"Yeah, go on, punk. I've waited seventy years, a few more minutes won't kill me," he said gruffly, clapping him on the shoulder a bit. Steve's grin grew brighter before he turned, already bringing the phone to his ear as he left the room.

Once Steve had left, he looked back at Darcy. She hadn't budged, hadn't even looked his way again. As he watched, a big muscled blond man came up, a concerned look on his bearded face. Darcy looked up at him and smiled wanly when he came to a standstill in front of her. The man tried to press a steaming mug of something into her hands, the murmur of his voice barely reaching James' ears. He could hear the urgency of the man's words, even if he couldn't actually hear the words themselves, but Darcy just shook her head several times until the man gave up and set the mug on an end table next to her.

James' hand came up to the pocket of his dress shirt, where the half ring piece rested against his heart. After a glance back at where Steve had disappeared through the door, and when he didn't see any sign of his friend returning, he quietly made his way over to the window where Darcy was sitting.

"Hello," he said quietly, his voice barely audible, even in the quiet room. Darcy didn't even look up, just kept staring out the window.

"Hello," she said just as quietly.

"I, ah, I couldn't help but overhear… Your friend sounded pretty concerned for you." James reached over and grabbed the still-steaming mug, and giving it a perfunctory sniff that told him it was chamomile tea, he took the ring half out of his breast pocket, and gently dropped it into the golden liquid. "You look like you could really use some sleep. Those are some serious dark circles you've got going on. Maybe you ought to just have a few sips?"

Darcy looked over at him, a slightly incredulous look on her face. Her eyes flicked over his face, a slight furrow appearing between her brows before her gaze shifted to the mug he was holding out to her with his right hand. She immediately dismissed him, looking back out the window. "Why do you care?" Her tone was sceptical and petulant as she subtly turned her body away from him, effectively shutting him out.

"I can't stand to see a dame looking so under the weather. C'mon. Just a few sips?" He tilted the mug towards her once more, and she gave him one more glance before rolling her eyes and reaching out to take the mug from him.

" _Fine._ If it means you'll quit bugging me." She blew on the liquid for awhile, still making no move to take a drink, so James sat on the couch next to her, content to wait. She looked askance at him, her gaze lingering a little longer. When he made no move to leave or make conversation, just looking at her expectantly, she lifted the cup to her lips and took a sip.

As she tipped the cup up to take a drink, there was a tiny 'tink' from the bottom of the cup. Her brows drew together in confusion, as she looked down into the mug. She peered in dumbly for a few moments before gingerly sticking a finger into the tea, hissing slightly at the still-scalding temperature of the liquid, as she fished out something that glittered. She stared at the gold half circle that sat in her right palm, and from his vantage point, James saw her expression morph from confusion to disbelief, and her gaze snapped back to his. Her eyes narrowed as she focussed on studying every inch of his face, and he sat still beneath her scrutiny even as his heart hammered in his chest and the blood rushed in his ears. He could see the moment comprehension hit her, and tears sprang into her eyes. Her hands went limp, and the mug went tumbling to the rug with a dull thunk and its contents went splashing out.

"James?" she choked out, her now-empty hand coming up to brush against his cheek. He couldn't even speak past the lump in his throat, so he just nodded dumbly, leaning more fully into her hand so that it made true contact. She let out a sob, before throwing her arms around his neck and began crying into his shoulder as she clung to him. He wrapped his metal arm around her, his flesh hand coming up to stroke at her hair.

"Yeah, doll. It's me. I told you I'd come back to you," he murmured with his lips at her temple.

"I thought it was my big bear-man that was coming for me," she laughed tearfully, releasing her grip on his neck, as she pulled back to drink in the sight of him. Even with her face streaked with tears and red eyes joining the dark circles, James thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his life. She brought her hands up to his face, one cupping his cheek, and the fingers of the other skimming across his eyebrows, down his nose, and over his upper lip and then lower lip. His eyes slipped shut, as he soaked in the most human contact he'd had in decades.

After a moment of hesitation, James dipped his head and kissed her, the arm around her tightening minutely as he drew her close to him once again. He drank in the feel of her, the tiny puff of breath she let out just before his lips met hers, the brush of her eyelashes against his cheek, and the slight roughness of chapped lips, while his fingers sifted through the hair at the nape of her neck. He catalogued every sensation to keep from drowning in it after having been isolated for so long from even the smallest connection.

"Bucky?!?"

Steve sounded equal parts scandalised and confused, and James was startled into pulling away from the kiss. He tried not to be too smug about the brief dazed look on Darcy's face as her eyes blinked open, just before realisation sank in and she turned bright red, burying her face in his shoulder. He threw back his head and laughed a full-throated laugh for the first time in seventy years. After a couple moments, Darcy's muffled giggles joined him, while Steve looked on in complete bewilderment at the display. Once their laughter had finally died down, and Darcy was no longer hiding in his shoulder, James turned to Steve with a gigantic grin.

"Stevie, have I got the story for you..."


End file.
